Category Archives: Dave

I’ve been thinking about blow jobs of late. In the giving and receiving yes, certainly. But more particularly on the politics and power dynamics surrounding them. And while that’s an area I intend to explore further, right now I am simply reflecting on how I’ve gotten to where I am today…

I remember learning; or more accurately *figuring out* what a blow job was in grade 11 gym class. My first real boyfriend didn’t come along until that summer, so I suppose I should be grateful that the entire notion didn’t come as an utter shock once *he* introduced the idea to me. Looking back, I find it amusing that the entire concept of oral sex hadn’t crossed my consciousness before then. And slightly more amusing at how little it took to figure it out.

A girl I was acquainted with was talking in the change room about meeting “Cedric” at a party, and how he had driven her home. And how else was she supposed to thank him other than blowing him? Based on the shocked/disgusted/judgmental looks on the faces of my other friends, I realized she had said something fairly shocking. I was fairly quiet as we walked to our next class, trying to figure out what she could have done to result in such a reaction from my fairly open and kind friends.

I knew what sex was; I wasn’t that sheltered, so I tried to sort out another activity from the context. OK: driveway; car; “blow job;” gratitude; not sex…Then it hit me what she must have done. Like a moment of divine inspiration.

Oh! That’s a thing! Interesting.

I then took a moment to process the idea that saying “thank you” is also a way of thanking someone for something. And I considered the notion that perhaps she was pressured and was trying to play it cool. Or perhaps she just liked doing it. I didn’t know, and I was too fascinated with this new concept to sit in righteous indignation over the actions of someone I only sort of knew, and really didn’t even like that much.

My first boyfriend Dave really liked sex. Ya know, not unlike many teenage boys. (If you are interested in my actual diary entry from the first time we/I had sex, please see here) And I can’t remember if it was him that told me that getting blowjobs was one of his favourite things in the entire world. It seems like something he would have said, so he gets the credit. It was at that point that I realized what a big deal it was to ALL MEN (at age 17, of course there are only absolutes). So I shrugged, and resigned myself to swallowing when he told me that it was the thing to do.

You see I never thought I would *ever* have a boyfriend. And sex seemed like some exotic thing that only the pretty and popular got to have, and I certainly didn’t feel that I fit into that category. Sexuality seemed to me more like a gift, something that lucky girls had the opportunity to express. I never judged anyone for it, nor felt that it was something that should be regulated or deemed bad or immoral. And if swallowing and blow jobs and sex were the things to do, then I would work with that. Now of course Dave was an asshole and told me that if I didn’t have sex with him soon I would be “forcing him to break up with me” and so I can appreciate the notion that I was pressured into it. I recognized the fact that I had the right to say that I wasn’t ready, but I somehow thought that he also had the “right” to express the limits of his patience. Ya know, and then make out with Maria at a party even though I *did* give it up, and then get annoyed with me for making an issue of it. Ah youth.

Anyhow, next came Rob in early University. He had more experience and would talk about how enthusiastically this one girl serviced him over the summer. I certainly don’t remember her name now, but I nicknamed her “hyper chick,” ostensibly because I felt energetic fellatio was the result of some sort of disorder. Or something. Anyhow, I was somewhat competitive, and as he was going away for a couple weeks, I wanted to give him something to remember me by. What I lacked in technique, I made up for in creativity and effort I’m sure – he received a very thorough blowing, and laughingly assured me that I had certainly guaranteed his fidelity while away. And from that, I was felt I had a skill. Blow jobs were now my *thing.*

Gawain tells me I have a “good sense of cock.” And while I find this assessment to be delightful, I still have moments of wonder at how that came to be. It’s surely a result of insecurity and naïveté in many ways. I didn’t want to be different or less than the other girls that I assumed were more experienced or skilled than I was. I had heard about being a “dead fuck” in high school, and it seemed like the worst possible thing to be. And this was from conversations with my girlfriends – not boys. But upon reflection, it made sense to me – why would someone want to be with someone just lying there? And it translated to blowjobs – why would someone want a blowjob from someone who was miserable about it?

I occasionally would like to speak with my 17 year-old self and have a calm discussion about proclivities and pleasure and manipulation and objectification. But the fact remains, a lot of this has been ingrained in me. And I also still have some sort of belief somewhere in there that sex is more for men. *Sexuality* is for women, but *sex* is for men. Ugh, so wrong and complicated and a little bit sad. But there it is. Something I am working to conquer. And I am so lucky to have a man like Gawain to work through this with.

I was 17 – his name was Shawn and he was adorable. We were at a party for a mutual friend’s birthday and had never laid eyes (or anything else) on each other before.

I was recently out of my first real relationship. The one that taught me about both the beauty and disillusionment that comes from one boy being your first everything. First make-out session. First nudity. First blow job. First Sex. And all the gloriously tentative steps leading up to each of those milestones.

Dave, asshole though he was, opened me up in so many ways. He made my delicate soft petals blossom into their first glow of sensuality. And once those petals have unclenched, it’s impossible for them to retreat back into a tight bud of innocence again. Those petals now crave to feel the heat and wetness of the sun and dew with increasing longing and regularity.

They burst forth more easily and quickly with each new stimulation. And Shawn? He stimulated right to the core of those nubile succulent petals. All the way down to the roots.

The second I saw him I couldn’t take my eyes from his. And I was shocked to find that he responded. Soon he was sitting in a corner with me and the hostess – equally charming and alluring.

I gazed into his brown eyes and found myself drowning in their depths. I felt an increasingly familiar heat fall over me. I’s never actually felt lust for anyone until that point in my life. But lust is what it was- unequivocally.

His lips pouted sexily and begged to be sucked and nibbled on as he talked to me of the most innocent things. I had the urge to crawl into his lap and shove my tongue in his mouth. To guide his hands to my breasts and feel that jolt between my legs as he squeezed them and pinched my nipples.

My last boyfriend had been an asshole, yet I gave it up to him anyhow. What would I be willing to do for someone who turned me on like this? Almost anything I’d wager.

But that night? I was caught up in my own insecurities. I had no idea what to do with this heat and desire. It overwhelmed me almost to the point of incapacitation. So I did nothing. I talked, and acted demure – certain that my feelings (of lust) would not be returned.

The next day I found this was untrue – it turns out he had thought I was hot. Unfortunately, life intervened, and he and the hostess lost touch. Neither of us ever saw him again.

A lost opportunity that still haunts me half a lifetime later.

Want to read about more sexy Lost Opportunities? Why not check out these other bloggers?

So the ultra hot Kimberly of The Errant Wife created her “May I Seduce You” series and invited some of us to participate.

The first topic that was suggested was “My First Time.” Now I already posted a while back about getting my cherry popped, but there are oh-so-many “firsts” to write about, that I was thrilled to contribute more…

I actually had a hard time choosing – my first blow job? One night stand? Orgasm? Seeing a penis? Having anal sex?

Then I realized what the post had to be about. My first porn experience.

Ahh Dave. Le premier amour. So sweet. And patient. And classy.Ahem. Or not.

Now watching an erotic film with your lover can be an immensely hot and satisfying experience. It can make you both aroused. It can give you ideas you’d never thought of before. It can give you something to aspire to. In some cases it can even make you laugh and try to show those actors how you can do better.

But that? Comes with experience and maturity. Something sadly lacking in a seventeen year old man-child.

The Duchess’s first porn movie?In Dave’s living room. Fully clothed.With Dave.And Dave’s best friend Kevin.And Dave’s other best friend Dave.And Lisa, who is dating the other Dave.

And no, this is not going anywhere fun, or sexy, or anywhere even remotely approaching a “group” experience.

Kevin? Sat staring at the screen mesmerized. Mouth slightly ajar. Possibly not breathing.The other Dave? Sat there holding hands with Lisa. Very well behaved and gentleman-like.My Dave? Watching the movie and looking annoyed when Lisa and I (on opposite ends of the couch with the two Daves between us) would lean over and start chatting.

Was it hot? No.

Multiple choice – was it embarrassing for the Duchess because:a) She was 17 and suspected that she was watching her boyfriend’s father’s pornb) She was in a room with 3 other people watching porn the same way you would watch 16 Candlesc) Kevin was freaking her out.d) She was a 17 year old girl who didn’t know what to do with her own sexuality yet, let alone that of those on the screen, and those in the room with her.e) All of the above.

Yes. E.

And so ended my porn career for quite a few years until I eventually found that while it can be hilarious under the correct circumstances, sometimes it can also do what it’s intended to do.

Wait, was this supposed to be a hot, arousing post? Next time my lovelies, I promise!

I’m re-posting this from my other blog, because it’s amusing (to me anyways). It comes from me re-reading my high school diary a little while back…

July 26, 1992

Hi, I had another turning point today. Dave and I finally did have sex (To use the term “finally” loosely- he began the pressure in the first few days of the relationship) . It was way different than I expected. For one thing, I expected a lot more pain than I got (There was still plenty of it, and blood though). In the beginning there was some and I almost changed my mind again but I kept going.

It was rather awkward because he said he wanted me on top so I could decide how deep to go and when to stop (Geez- details I have NO memory of). Then when we got that initial part over with we switched. I kind of felt like I was doing nothing. It seems like he was doing all the work (See even then I wanted give it my all – damn I’m awesome!).

Oh well (Hmm, I got over that pretty quickly didn’t I?), anyways after a while there was not pain at all, but it wasn’t really what I expected. I was concentrating so much on what was happening that I couldn’t enjoy it as much as I should have (though I did enjoy it). (A miracle – cause really – hands up- who enjoyed their first time, honestly??)

I can see now why people can do this so often and for so long (“So long”? Hmm, he must have been better than I remembered). I still feel somewhat like a virgin though because of the condom (Good Lord, even back then I was trying to say that certain experiences “didn’t count” Sorry Duchess- you’ve been officially de-flowered). Maybe I should go on the pill so we don’t have to use it. (Thank God I waited a couple of years before I discovered the crazy-making joys of the pill) I’ll feel much better when it’s not on. That way I’ll have the full experience. I don’t know, but it seems like it would be more enjoyable without it on, for both of us (Well yes- but stupid for talking that way since he had gotten his girlfriend before me pregnant).

I feel like I should feel like a different person, but I don’t. It happened. I’m glad it did, but I knew that it would happen someone time soon (since he threatened to break-up with you if you didn’t have sex with him soon? You’re a genius.) so nothing has really changed.